Murphy's Law
by quietandsneaky
Summary: Sixteen months after Sam leaves for Stanford, Pastor Jim is determined to get the Winchesters back together for Christmas.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: The characters of Supernatural do not belong to me.**

 **A/N: Yes, this is a Christmas story, and yes, it will likely not be finished until after Christmas.**

When Jim Murphy was accused of being 'sneaky', he often laughed it off. Mostly because it was true. He had, more than once, pulled a bait and switch in order to help friends when they didn't want it. He knew the old bit of wisdom that you can't really help someone unless they wanted it, but he tended to throw that out with the people he truly cared about.

Like the Winchesters. John and Dean had been with him since the night before, and both were surprisingly still sleeping. John had learned long ago to not ask Jim to wake him up in the morning. The friendly pastor would simply 'forget' every time and keep them in bed. As usual, the smell of cooking pancakes and bacon woke Dean first.

"Well, it seems that my food really does raise the dead."

"That it does, pastor Jim." Dean said with a grin. "That it does."

"So, what's on the agenda for the day?" Jim asked.

"I'm not sure. Dad said we'll probably just hang out with you for a few days. Is that okay?"

 _Like a worm on a hook,_ Jim thought. "It's always okay, Dean. Do you think your father will ever learn that he doesn't have to ask?"

"Probably not." John answered, walking to the kitchen and joining the two of them. "And it's funny; I seem to remember seeing the alarm clock last night before I went to sleep."

"Did you now? Weird…"

"Mmmmm hmmm." John replied as he poured himself a cup of coffee. "Dean, we need to train today."

"You absolutely will not." Jim said, turning and plating the last of the pancakes. "It is December 23. You two will rest in this house until the 26th and I won't hear any arguing about it. Understood?"

"What are you gonna do if we don't?" John asked.

"Remember, buddy, who I've got on my side." Jim said, pointing up at the ceiling.

John cracked a rare smile. "Yes, sir."

"Now, there's something you two should know. I've invited someone else to spend Christmas here."

"Who?" John asked.

"Don't worry. It's a friend." Jim said. "In fact, he should be here any second."

"What are you up to?" Dean asked.

The front door opened and a familiar voice called out in greeting. John and Dean were both stunned. They hadn't heard from him in almost eighteen months, not since the blowout fight that had led to the family separating. Jim walked back into the kitchen, grinning in triumph.

"Sammy?" Dean asked.

Sam frowned; he obviously hadn't been expecting this either. "Hi, Dean. Hi, Dad."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Sorry it's been so long since I updated. But it happens every year. Every. Single. Stinking. Year. I get sick on either Christmas Eve, Christmas day, or the day after. I also had to work all three of those days. But I'm back now :). Hope everyone had a good holiday, whatever you celebrate and wherever you are.**

"Sammy?"

"Jim, what the hell is this?" John growled.

" _He_ " Jim said, placing an arm around Sam's shoulder, "is your son, in case you've forgotten, John."

"Could've fooled me." John said bitterly.

Sam scowled, but Jim squeezed his shoulder and replied, "John, I know you're not happy about this. Sam, you either. But here's the thing. I don't care. You two need to work this out and you're going to."

"Sammy, it's good to see you." Dean tried, hoping to get some sort of reaction out of the very stiff Sam.

"It's Sam." Sam replied. "And this was a good thought, pastor Jim, but it's clear they don't want to see me."

"Sam, that's not true." Dean tried again.

"We'll head out." John said.

"See, I told you." Sam said. "They don't want to see me."

"Sam, do you trust me?" Jim asked. Sam nodded, and Jim said, "Okay, John. Go ahead. Leave."

Since Sam or Dean hadn't brought their duffel bags in the night before, the journey to the car was a short one. John barked for Dean from the front door, and Dean looked longingly at Sam one more time. Sam had a barely concealed look of hurt on his face, but pastor Jim just seemed smug. Sam expected to hear the rumbling of the Impala's engine, but instead all he heard was a persistent sputter.

"What is…?"

"Just trust me, Sam." pastor Jim assured him. "Go on and set your things down in your room. Dinner should be ready in a couple hours if you want to go lay down."

"You sure you don't need any help?"

"Dean will be the one helping me. You just drove a day and a half to get here after working for a week straight. You are getting some rest." pastor Jim said.

Sam smiled. "You sound like Dad sometimes."

"No. If I was your Dad, I would _order_ you to bed and make you sleep. I'm asking. Please. I don't care if you go to sleep, since it's getting close to dinnertime anyway. Just go lay down and I'll come get you when dinner's ready."

Sam nodded. "Thanks."

"Go on. I'm sure your dad'll have some things to say to me right now."

"What did you do to the car?" Sam asked. "I'd be more worried about Dean than Dad."

"Nothing that can't be fixed quickly." Jim assured Sam. "Now go. Now."

Sam chuckled. "Yes, sir."

Sam headed back towards the bedroom, passing by John and Dean and not saying anything to either of them. Dean was torn. He wanted to go with Sam and grill him with questions about his life at Stanford. Did he like his school? Was he happy? Was there any chance he'd ever want to come home? But he didn't want to go after Sam right that second and chance angering his already frustrated father.

"Why exactly can't we leave?"

"Because your son is here and you're going to visit with him." Jim said.

"And if we don't?"

"Then I don't tell you how to fix the Impala." Jim replied.

"I can figure it out in no time." John said. "I can fix it myself."

"Good luck with that." Jim said.

"Damn it, Jim, you can't force me to stay here with Sam if I don't want to."

"But you want to, so I'm not forcing you." Jim reasoned. "I also stopped my newspaper delivery for three days, and told Caleb and Bobby not to call you with any potential hunts."

Jim didn't think it was possible, but John scowled even deeper. "Well what if I hotwire your car and just leave the Impala?"

"Then all your questions and doubts about God will be answered in under a minute because you'll meet him in person." Jim said seriously. "You seem to forget-you don't intimidate me, John. So, save your energy and stop trying."

"Fine. I'll go talk to Sam."

"You will not. That boy's been working every day for two weeks to be able to be here for Christmas. He just drove a day and a half by himself to get here. He's resting right now, just like you two did last night. You can see and talk to him at dinner." Jim said.

"You set this whole thing up, and now that I'm giving in and doing what you want, you're telling me I can't go talk to Sam?"

"You're not planning to talk to him. You're planning to blast him, again, for leaving you and Dean. You're planning to try and get him to convince me that you two have already made up so you can leave. Not happening. Now, leave Sam alone for the next two hours and you can see him at dinner. Dean, you've been staring in the direction of the bedroom ever since your father and I started talking. Why don't you go up there and talk to him?"

"Why does Dean get to talk to him and I don't?" John asked, bewildered.

"Because Dean will actually talk and not try to make Sam feel guilty." Jim said. "Now, John, help me with dinner."

"I can go get it…"

"A real dinner. Wash your hands." Jim said, pointing to the kitchen sink. "Dean, it's alright. Go. Knock on the door first. Sam may be sleeping."

Dean nodded. "Thanks."

Dean's stomach was in knots the entire time. He remembered all too well the last time the three Winchesters had been together. Sam angrily shoving things in a bag, Dad screaming at Sam about leaving the family, Sam screaming back at Dad that it _wasn't_ a family, because a family supports each other through thick and thin no matter what. That they don't kick someone out for following their dreams, they celebrate it. Dad finally stopping himself from screaming, lowering his voice until it was just audible in the room.

"You walk out that door, Sam, don't you ever come back."

Even though Dean was only twenty-three, he could say with absolute certainty that his biggest regret in life was not stepping in at that point. Sam wanted him to, Dean could tell. He pleaded with Dean with those big puppy dog eyes that could make God himself bend to Sam's will, begged Dean to say something, anything, to stop their father's cruel ultimatum. But Dean didn't say anything. He was too stunned. Sam was leaving, Dad was pushing him out, and there was nothing Dean could do about it. Sam had waited a full fifteen seconds, grasping onto the hope that at least Dean was happy for him and could accept this. But when he was met with silence, a crushed and hurt Sam had picked up his duffel bag, pushed past John and Dean, and walked to the door. His parting words had haunted Dean every day since.

"Dean, you're twenty-two. You deserve to do what you want with your life, and so do I. Please, try your best to make it to thirty. That's all I want, and I hope you understand that one day."

Dean did get it. He wanted that himself. He wanted the whole white picket fence, kids, a wife, a family. But he had given up that dream years earlier. It only ended in heartbreak and pain for everyone involved. But Sam was a dreamer. He believed good things were possible to have if you just tried to get them for yourself. Dean didn't dare be that optimistic. But if Sam could get them for himself, if Sam could be happy, then he was more than willing to let him have it. Dean reached the bedroom door and knocked quietly, three times, hoping both that Sam was awake and that Sam was asleep.

"Come in."

Dean walked in to find Sam sitting on the bed taking off his shoes and socks. Clearly Sam hadn't expected it to be Dean at the door, because he paused and stared at Dean as if he couldn't believe Dean was there. Dean didn't blame him. He was doing the same. He'd been certain when Sam walked out the door that it would be the last time he'd see Sam again.

"Hey." Dean said awkwardly.

"Hey." Sam answered, continuing to pull his shoes and socks off. "What are you doing here?"

"What do you mean? I came to see you."

"I figured you'd stay with Dad." Sam said. "Just like last time."

"Come on, Sam, that's not fair and you know it."

"No, actually, I don't know it. You _did_ stay with Dad, so how exactly is it not fair?" Sam asked.

"Someone had to. Do you want Dad to hunt alone?"

"Dad never really gave much of a damn about what I wanted, so what difference does it make?" Sam asked, turning to lay down on the bed.

"Damn it, Sam, I don't want to fight with you!" Dean asked. "I came to see how you were."

"Right on time. It only took a year and a half."

Dean started to say something back, then stopped himself. Sam could argue until he was out of breath. He'd learned long ago the way to stop an argument with Sam was to concede his point when he had one.

"You're right. I should've called you. I'm sorry."

"Thank you." Sam said.

"So, how's life at Stanford?"

"Dean, I don't really want to talk." Sam said.

Dean frowned. "Okay. I'll leave you alone."

"Dean, wait." Sam said. Dean turned around and Sam explained, "I don't mean I don't want to talk _ever._ I'm just tired. I've been up for three days with only a couple hours sleep and I just want to take a nap. After dinner, I promise. Deal?"

Dean smiled. "Deal."

"It's good to see you too, Dean." Sam said. "Will you do something for me? Please?"

"What?"

"I get that you don't want Dad to be alone. I really do. I don't want him to be alone either. But…" Sam swallowed, the emotion thick in his throat.

"But what, Sam?"

"I don't want to be alone either." Sam said. "I miss you, dude. But I was afraid to call you because I didn't know how you felt. So please, stay with Dad if you want, but don't let him cut you off from me."

Dean sighed. "I'm sorry. I thought you didn't call because you hated me."

"I thought _you_ hated _me_." Sam said.

"How about a truce?" Dean said. "No one hates anyone. I'll call you, you call me."

"Thanks, Dean. Just remember, though, I work a lot and go to class a lot. If I don't pick up, I'm not ignoring you."

"Same goes for me. If I'm on a hunt, I might not be able to pick up. But if I can, I promise I will." Dean pointed at the bed. "Get some sleep. I'll wake you up when dinner's ready."

"Dean? You think it'll be this easy to make up with Dad?"

Dean sighed. "I don't know. But I'll help you as much as I can."

"Thanks."

Dean went to the kitchen, where John was unwillingly helping Jim with dinner. "Can I help?"

"Yes, Dean. Thank you. Here, peel these."

"This seems like a big fancy dinner for you." Dean remarked. "Not that I don't appreciate it, but is there a reason for it?"

"Two, actually." Jim responded. "One, it's Christmas. Two, the three of you have had nothing but college food and diner food for months now. I'm doing it because I care about you."

"Yeah, so much you're holding us hostage." John said bitterly.

"That is exactly right, my friend." Jim said with a smile that amused Dean and infuriated John. "Dean, get to peeling."

Dinner was on the table and ready an hour later. Dean woke up Sam, who happily ate with the three of them, ignoring John's glares at him. He'd decided before going to sleep that he was going to approach his father differently from before. He wouldn't bait John at all, and would answer any questions as respectfully as possible. Sam regretted the fight, but was sure that if he apologized his father would mistake it for Sam admitting he was wrong about going to school and leaving the 'family business'. So Sam answered questions from both Dean and pastor Jim. Questions about his job at the campus bookstore, his friends, his classes, and finally, the one question that did get a response out of John.

"You have a girlfriend?"

Sam grinned, the first time he'd really smiled since he'd gotten to Jim's. "I do."

"Dude! Good goin'!" Dean said, clapping Sam on the back.

"Thanks, man." Sam said.

"I'm glad you found someone, Sam. Truly." Jim said. "So what's she like?"

"She's…." Sam sighed and looked at the opposite wall as he thought about what to say. "She's smart, and funny, and caring, and sweet, and amazing, and everything I just said hardly seems like enough to describe her."

"You'll have to bring her here to meet us."

"Absolutely not." John said.

Sam, startled at being addressed for the first time since arriving at the house, asked, "What?"

"I said absolutely not. If you care about this girl, really care about her, you'll stay away from her."

Sam immediately forgot his promise to himself to not start an argument with John. "What the hell does that mean?"

"It means if you continue to see her, you're going to get her killed."

"John…" Jim said with a warning in his tone.

"No, Jim. You forced us to get together to talk so we're gonna talk." John snapped. He turned back to Sam and ordered, "You need to leave this girl, son."

"Don't call me that." Sam said. "Don't ever call me that again."

"Watch your tone, boy." John growled. "I'm still your father."

"No, you're not. You lost your right to be my father when you told me I wasn't your son anymore."

"Excuse me?" Jim asked. "When did that happen?"

"Oh, he didn't tell you about _that_ , did he?" Sam said. "He said it the night I left for Stanford. That if I left, I wasn't his son anymore."

"John? Is that true?" Jim asked.

"Yes." John admitted. "Yes, it's true."

"You stubborn, stupid, asinine jackass."

"Great language for a pastor." John muttered.

"I think Jesus would agree with me on this." Jim said. "Sam, I'm sorry. I never would have tried this if I'd known."

"It's okay." Sam said.

"So since Sam clearly doesn't want to listen to me, I'll be leaving in the morning." John said.

"No." Jim said. "You won't. I know this goes against your very nature, but you aren't calling the shots here. You're staying with Sam for two more days. If you try to leave, I'll call Bobby and Caleb to drag you back here. Now sit your ass down and listen to your son talk about his life."

Dean Winchester had seen things that most people could only dream of. But the way his father simply accepted pastor Jim's command and sat back down was something that he didn't think he would ever forget. John didn't engage Sam in any further conversation, but didn't try to discourage him either. Dean wasn't sure, but he thought, for a brief second when Sam turned his back to put his dishes in the sink, that he saw his father crack the briefest of smiles.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Happy New Year!**

 **Guys, I promise I am writing this story as fast as I can. But this cold is kicking my butt. Winter sucks.**

John knew he was an asshole. He didn't need Jim to tell him that. Sam had every right to a life that he wanted, a life that made him happy. He still thought Sam was being selfish for leaving hunting to pursue that life, but he could hardly fault the kid for going after what he deserved.

But what struck John was the change in Sam. They'd been together for more than twenty-four hours now, and the only argument they'd had was when John had told Sam to get rid of Jess. Sam didn't engage his father, which broke John's heart. But he knew he deserved it. John wanted more than anything to take back all the vicious things he'd said to Sam the night of the fight. He hadn't meant any of them. He was incredibly proud of Sam's accomplishment getting into Stanford. He loved the fact that Sam was brave enough to stand up to him. Not that John would ever tell him that.

Which, of course, was the crux of the problem. John Winchester just didn't do _talking._ Not meaningful talking, anyway. He was more than adept at commanding a room, getting mostly everyone to do what he wanted. His style of talking worked, or at least seemed to work, with Dean, who flourished under his military style discipline. But it had always had the opposite effect on Sam. Sam needed patience, gentleness, and sensitivity. All the things that John just didn't know how to give, or at least fake giving him.

Sitting in the room Jim had set up for John and Dean, John did a lot of thinking. He held a photo in his hands of Sam and Dean at Jim's house, ages ten and six. They were in the middle of Jim's living room, a mountain of wrapping paper around them, huge grins on the both of their faces. Jim had given Sam and Dean a Christmas that year, just like he was doing again this year. John remembered getting home that Christmas night and nearly being mowed down by an energetic Sammy.

" _Daddy! Look, Santa came! Come on, come on, come see!"_

John had wondered in the months since Sam left where the little boy barely bigger than his father's knee who loved and adored him had gone. Of course, every time he wondered that question, the answer would come back in flashbacks. Flashbacks of him having nothing positive at all to say to Sam.

 _You're too slow, Sam._

 _Why can't you be more like your brother?_

 _We don't have time to go to your play, Sam. Stop being selfish. People are dying._

John had always known the truth of where Sam had gone. He knew exactly what Sam needed. But Sam reminded him too much of Mary. And every time he and Sam fought, and John let Sam down in some way, all he saw was Mary's disappointed eyes reflecting back at him. Which led to the barking, and the yelling, and the snapping, and the distance.

"Dad?"

John jumped. Dean was in the doorway. "What?" he snapped, harsher than he intended to.

"Um, sorry. But lunch is ready."

"Right. Sorry, son. You just startled me." John said, placing the photo back on the dresser. "Where's your brother?"

"Outside." Dean answered.

"Doing what?"

"Talking to his girlfriend on the phone." Dean said.

John nodded. "Of course he is."

Dean sighed. "Dad…"

"Let's get lunch, Dean." John said.

"Yes, sir." Dean said, disappointed. "I'll go get Sam."

"No. I'll get him." John said.

Dean looked skeptical, but went back towards the kitchen. John stepped outside and heard Sam before he saw him. Sam was sitting on the corner of the bottom step of the staircase, the phone to his ear, and John was not prepared for what he heard.

"My Dad won't so much as look at me…I know, but…You're really luck to have parents that care about you no matter what…"

Sam's voice broke, and John saw him wipe his face. _Damn it, Mary. How did I screw this up so badly?_

"Sure, I'll talk to her. Hang on." Sam pressed the speaker button on the phone. "Hi, Mrs. Moore."

A woman's voice that John had never heard before filled the air. "Sam, I told you before, it's Leslie."

Sam smiled. "Hi, Leslie."

"Are you crying, Sam?" Leslie said. "It's okay if you are."

"I'm trying not to." Sam admitted.

"Listen to me, Sam. I don't know what's going on in your father's mind. But I told you before, and I'll tell you again. You are a good boy. A good man. And you deserve the very best that life has to offer. And as long as Lloyd and I are breathing, even if, God forbid, it doesn't work between you and Jess, you will never be without a mom or a dad again. Understand?"

"I understand. Thank you." Sam said. "Thank you. I really, really needed to hear that right now."

"This might be a little awkward to hear from a woman you've only met a few times, but I mean it. We love you, Sam. All of us."

"Love you guys too." Sam said. "Bye."

John couldn't take the intense guilt bubbling up inside him. "Sammy."

Sam turned and his eyes registered anger at his father. "Were you eavesdropping?"

"No. I came to tell you lunch is ready."

"I'll be there in a minute." Sam said.

"Sam…" John said.

Sam picked up the phone and started back to the house.

"Sam, please, just let me talk." John said.

"Dad, don't do this. Please."

"Don't do what?" John asked. "Talk to you?"

"Is that what you want? Do you want to talk to me, or do you want to order me, again, to get rid of Jess?"

"Sam, please just listen." John said. "Look, I'm glad you found someone too. I am. But I just don't want what happened to me to happen to you."

"So you'd rather I just avoid any chance that something _might_ happen and go ahead and be miserable."

"You know, better than most, what your mom's death did to me." John said. "Don't do that to yourself."

"Actually, no. I don't know what losing mom did to you. Because the only Dad I've ever known is the one who tries to control every bit of how I live my life."

John's thin string of patience snapped. "Damn it, Sam, fine! Do whatever the hell you want, just don't call me when it all comes crashing down around you!"

"Believe me, Dad, I won't make the mistake of asking my father to support me in anything. I know that's way too much to ask."

"What is going on out here?" Jim had heard John and Sam arguing all the way in the kitchen. "I could hear you two all the way back in the kitchen."

"Dad's trying to make me leave Jess again."

"I am not. I just pointed out that…"

"ENOUGH!" Jim shouted, raising his voice and his hand to silence the two of them. "Both of you, in the kitchen, now."

Jim's outburst was enough to quiet any objection from Sam or John, but not enough to quell the scowls off their faces. It was clear to Dean that this, whatever it was, was going to determine the future of the relationship between the three of them. Sam took a seat at one end of the table, John on the other. Dean stood at the kitchen door, praying that John or, less likely, Sam, wouldn't screw this up. Jim took his seat between the two of them.

"Okay. We're hashing this out now."

"Jim, there's nothing to talk about." John said, crossing his arms over his chest and reminding Jim amazingly of a pouting Sammy.

"There's plenty to talk about and you know it." Jim said. "Sam, you first. What do you need from your dad?"

Sam was staring at the table, clearly too shy to say anything.

"Well, come on, Sam. Tell me, again, how I've let you down." John snapped.

"That's it." Jim said. "Sam, I really hope you don't hate me after this."

"Hate you after what?"

"I've asked you before and I'll ask you again. Do you trust me?" Jim asked.

"Yes. I do." Sam said.

"Good. Because I need to break a confidence you asked me to keep years ago. One that involves your dad and Dean. Do you know what I'm talking about?"

Sam considered a long few seconds before answering. "I do know. But I don't want to guilt him into anything."

"He needs to know, Sam. I won't tell him if you really don't want me to. But I really think he needs to know. It's time."

"Time for what?" John snapped at the both of them. "What is going on?"

Sam bit back his irritation and answered calmly, "Tell him."

Jim nodded and turned back to John. "Do you remember when Sam was fourteen and he caught pneumonia?"

"Of course I do. He nearly died." John said. "What's that got to do with this?"

"Do you know why he caught pneumonia?" Jim asked. At John's clueless look, Jim shook his head. "I can't believe you never figured it out."

"Figured what out?"

"Two weeks before Sam was diagnosed, you and Dean were attacked by that werewolf. Your wounds both got infected." Jim said.

"Yeah…" John answered.

"John, it was below zero and snowing that day. How do you think you and Dean got your prescriptions?"

"We thought you got 'em." Dean said, speaking for the first time since the confrontation had started.

"Nope. That's what Sam asked me to tell you. But my car wouldn't start that night, and you two were developing a fever and hurting something fierce. Sam got pneumonia because he _walked_ a mile in the cold and the snow to get your prescriptions so that you two could get some sleep."

John and Dean both stared at Sam, mouths gaping in astonishment.

"And while you two sit there with your mouths dragging the floor, I have something else to show you."

Jim pulled his wallet out of his pocket and pulled out a picture he kept in there. He glanced at it for a long moment before handing it to John. It was an old snapshot of a woman and a little boy. The woman was beautiful, with long, brown, curly hair, wearing a yellow sweater and red jeans. The little boy had the same color hair, and looked to be about four years old, wrapping both arms around what John assumed was his mother's legs.

"Who is this?" John asked.

Jim's answer nearly knocked John to the floor. "They're my wife and my son."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Sorry this has taken so long! This cold is still kicking my butt. When I want to sleep, I can't, and when I don't need to sleep (like at work) I can't help it. Ugh!**

"She's your…" Dean asked, stunned at the new information. "She's your wife?"

"Yes. She was my wife. Claire. And that's my son Daniel." Jim said.

"What happened to them?" Sam asked as Dean passed him the picture.

Jim took a ragged breath before answering. He took the picture from Sam and handed it back to John. "They died two hours after this photo was taken." Again, there were shocked looks from everyone in the room, which Jim took advantage of to tell the story. "It was Daniel's fourth birthday. Claire wasn't much of a cook, so I was making Daniel's favorite dinner. Claire took him for a walk so he wouldn't see. They were hit by a guy that was too drunk to know he was too drunk to drive."

"Jim, I'm sorry." John said sincerely. "I really am."

"Don't pity me." Jim seethed. "I told you so you'd understand. It's been more than twenty years and I still miss Claire and Daniel so much sometimes that I can barely breathe. So, do you understand the level of pissed off it makes me when you have a son here who would give his life up for you so that you didn't have to be sick and in pain for twelve hours, and you dump him because he isn't living the life that _you_ wanted?"

"Jim…" John started to say, before being cut off.

"I did not say you could talk." Jim said. "John, I know you lost Mary. And I know you lost her in a horrible, horrible way that most people could scarcely imagine. But you do _not_ have a monopoly on suffering. You do not get to hurt anyone else because you've been hurt. And you especially do not get to hurt Sammy because you've been hurt."

"I haven't hurt him." John stubbornly insisted.

"Yes, John, you have. And I'm still not finished. It not only pisses me off that you abandoned Sam because you didn't like his choices, but that God chose to take the blessing that was my son, who I treasured and loved and cherished, and decided to give that blessing to you. So you have a decision to make. You can listen to what Sam has to say, and you can tell him how you really feel about him, or you can walk out that front door right now."

John nodded, too stunned at having the same basic ultimatum that he'd given Sam months earlier thrown back in his face. Jim turned to Sam and grabbed his shoulder to catch his attention. Sam had tears in his eyes as Jim said to him,

"I know this may not mean a lot coming from me, because you need to hear it from your father. But no matter how anyone else feels about you, I am proud of you. Bobby is proud of you. Caleb is proud of you. You _do_ have family that cares about and loves you, Sam. And whenever you need a place to come home to, this front door is always open for you. Do you hear me?"

Sam nodded. "Yes. I hear you. Thank you."

"My pleasure, Sam. I mean that. You and your brother have given me back a lot of joy that I thought I lost when Daniel died. It's the least I can do for you." Jim released Sam's shoulder and turned back to John. He pulled a key out of his pocket and slammed it on the table in front of John. "The Impala wouldn't start because the key on your key ring is a dummy key. There's nothing wrong with the car. I'll leave you three alone, but I'll be close. Make your choice."

Jim turned out of the room, taking one more look at Sam. John was reeling. He'd wondered what had gotten Jim into hunting, but he also knew that most people did not care to talk about their reasons, so he'd never asked. John just couldn't reconcile the depths of Jim's loss with the person he'd become. Jim's voice reverberated in his head.

 _Do you understand the level of pissed off it makes me when you have a son here who would give his life up for you so that you didn't have to be sick and in pain for twelve hours, and you dump him because he isn't living the life that you wanted?_

 _I know you lost Mary. And I know you lost her in a horrible, horrible way that most people could scarcely imagine. But you do not have a monopoly on suffering. You do not get to hurt anyone else because you've been hurt. And you especially do not get to hurt Sammy because you've been hurt._

"Dad?" John looked up to see Sam wiping his face as he said quietly, "You don't have to do this if you don't want to."

John felt his heart crack. Had it really become so hard for him to talk that Sam thought John didn't _want_ him? "Sam, I do want to. The problem is, I don't know how to."

"What do you mean?"

"Sam, how could you want anything to do with me?" John asked. "Son, I've regretted telling you not to come back every single day."

Sam shrugged. "You're my dad."

John smiled. "I don't deserve you."

"Dad, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I said that night. We are a family. We always will be. But I'm not sorry for leaving. You didn't give me much of a reason to stay." Sam expected an explosive outburst at what he said, but none came.

"I know." John said. "I know I didn't. And I'm sorry, Sam. I can't say that enough. I just don't know how to be the dad you need anymore."

"Dad, I don't want anything from you. Nothing material, anyway." Sam said. "I just want you to care."

"Sam, I've always cared." John said. "I know I don't show it or tell you too often, but I do care about you."

"Then why can't you just tell me sometimes?" Sam begged. "Dad, I've had nights where I stay up all night feeling so guilty that I can barely sleep or focus or eat. Jess'll say to me that she loves me and I have this little voice in the back of my head saying that she shouldn't because my own dad doesn't."

John took a deep breath and thought to himself _damn it, time to swallow my pride._ His mind was still reeling from Jim's story. To have a son taken away so suddenly was something John had been terrified would happen for practically Sam and Dean's entire life.

"When you told me you were going to school, all I could think about, the only thing that kept blaring in my head, was that you were going to be alone. It scared me to death, Sam. If you're alone, I can't protect you."

Sam nodded. He could understand his father's words but he didn't want to chance believing them.

"Answer Jim's question. What do you need from me?"

"I just need you to understand. Understand that hunting isn't in me. That me leaving doesn't mean I hate you and Dean, it just means that I'm taking time to figure myself out. Dad, just like you say you've always cared for me, I've always cared for you. You are the bravest man I've ever met. You're a hero." Sam said. "But I never felt like I belonged with you as a hunter. Or as your kid." John started to apologize again, but Sam cut him off. "No. I don't want another apology. Can we just…start over?"

"How do we do that?"

Sam shrugged. "Call me at school sometimes. Ask how I'm doing. How Jess is doing. If you can do all that, then I'll come join you guys to hunt whenever I can."

"Sounds like a deal." John said.

" _But_ " Sam said, "I am not giving up my life to help you. I won't abandon Jess suddenly to go on a hunt. I won't skip finals or midterms or work to go on a hunt. I plan to marry this girl, dad. She's the one. And if we do get married, then it's over. My life's all about her. Can you handle that?"

John twitched slightly at yet another dig at their lifestyle. The old reflex of yelling at Sam for being selfish was coming in strong. But ruining this chance to make up with Sam would cost him not only Sam this time, but Dean too. An old saying of Mary's floated into his mind. _Would you rather be right or be happy_? John decided that this time he'd rather be happy.

"You're right, son. Come on. Let's eat this lunch Jim made."


End file.
